


If we make it out alive

by cookiedoug



Series: If we make it out alive [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, First Kiss, M/M, Poe Dameron is a cocky bastard, Spin the Bottle, and Finn loves it, even if he doesn't know it yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiedoug/pseuds/cookiedoug
Summary: But the thing is- he knows, doesn’t he? The war keeps on going. The war has being going on for decades, and he has being about to die just a few hours ago, a few days ago, a few weeks ago. He’s never known any other way of living that wasn’t in the verge of dying.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Series: If we make it out alive [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610869
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	If we make it out alive

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Si salimos vivos de esta](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378312) by [cutthroatsunsets (cookiedoug)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiedoug/pseuds/cutthroatsunsets). 



“What are you gonna do, when the war is over?”

Rose's voice is little more than a sigh, the words muffled, distant, somehow trapped in the inside of the bottle of the burnt-caramel-flavored-something that has being rotating for a while around the crowd.

Finn is not looking at her. Finn is looking up, at the dark beyond the rustling leaves of the palm trees, at the sky that looks so much different from here -less dark, less cold- than from other side of the porthole of a Destroyer. Finn has never liked space before. But now, in this distance, he thinks he maybe would.

Just maybe.

He looks down to Rose, her eyes bright form the alcohol there all drinking **.** Bright from the kiss, too, just a couple of minutes ago. 

“What do you mean?”

Rose frowns, looks at Finn like he _clearly_ should know what she means.

“You know. Where’re you gonna go. What’re you gonna do” she lifts the bottle, swings it in the general direction of _all_ Ajan Kloss and beyond “After”

She says _gonna._ She says _after._ And Finn.

_Finn_.

“I–”

 _“Trooper!”_ Jessica Pava’s voice cuts through the noise of the conversations, calling for his attention from the other side of the circled crowd. Her smile wide and charming and sharp-edged, eyes on the dangerous side of playful when Finn meets them “Seems like it’s your turn to get lucky!”

And yeah. Right. They’re playing. A bottle, people kissing, and -in Pava’s own words- _a little bit living-like excitement for you, whitecase._ Finn likes her as much as he can’t stand her. According to Poe, there’s no other way to feel about Jessica, “ _Not that she allows, anyway”_

It is late. The party long faded into this: bonfires consumed into coals, music lowered just a note higher than a whisper, the remaining people gathering closer; the ever present, underlying thrumming of adrenaline keeping them all up despite the tiredness, pumping in their veins like the idling engine of a war machine. 

Finn looks at Poe, sitting right next to Jessica, and Poe looks back at him, smiles. He looks exactly how Finn feels. Strained. Volatile. Upped and downed from the last fight.

The last victory.

By now, al least.

“Hey!” Jessica makes her fingers snap, getting back his attention. “What do you think if we find out who gets to be lucky with you?”

She winks at him, content like a kid playing with a new toy. Finn watches her as she leans forward, making the bottle spin for a second time, feeling suddenly uneasy, wandering why the hell did he agreed to this so fast, especially considering that most likely _he is_ the new toy.

But the thing is- _he knows_ , doesn’t he? The war keeps on going. The war has being going on for _decades,_ and he has being about to die just a few hours ago, a few days ago, a few weeks ago. He’s never known any other way of living that wasn’t in the verge of dying.

And he wants, he _wants—_

The bottle begins to slow down.

— _he wants._ A piece, a taste, even a little scrap.

He wants to know. To feel. To taste.

How it is. How it _would_ be. Even if is just for a moment.

That _living-like excitement._

The bottle stops.

It points to Poe.

“ _Well,_ that’s lucky, indeed” he hears Jessica say, mirth in her voice, but she’s not talking to Finn, she’s talking to Poe. Poe, who huffs a laugh, tilts his head towards her, mutters something to her.

Looks up. At Finn.

And that burnt-caramel-flavored-something must be good because it takes Finn two, three, four seconds to fully realize he’s about to kiss Poe Dameron. 

He’s about to kiss his _damn best friend._

And now, it’s Finn’s heart’s turn to start spinning.

“You got to go to the center of the circle” Rose says, bumping against his side, “That’s where the kissing happens” and Finn thinks _I know,_ says, “I Know”

He breathes. Hard.

Crawls to the center of the circle.

And that’s when people starts whistling and cheering and _whooping._ And he feels like the stupidest man alive, just standing there, waiting, while Poe gets slowly on his fours, while Poe crawls towards him.

While Poe goes to meet him there.

He kneels in front of Finn, expresion amused, shaking his arms up and down, up and down, always the showman, always the natural epicenter of whatever rampage is happening around. C _’mon, you gotta really ask for it!_ He says, half a scream, half a laugh, making the crowd get crazy around them.

And Finn really, _really,_ thought it would be fun, he thought it would be just a little careless post-battle drunk stupidity. Kissing a stranger, trying how it feels, how it _would_ be. But suddenly he doesn’t know what to do, or if he _should_ (because it’s Poe, it’s fucking _Poe_ ) _,_ so he says:

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to”

“And let all this people down?” Poe smirks, raising an eyebrow, eyes not alcohol-bright, eyes _Poe Dameron_ bright _,_ drunk with the attention, with the excitement; with the _we got out alive_ that is fueling all of them tonight, that’s burning inside all of them. Dangerous and flammable, like gasoline.

And Finn knows that look, knows it so, so well.

It’s a audacious look, a reckless look.

“Besides. It’s just a kiss” says Poe.

And he sounds just a little teasing, just a little cocky.

He sounds that way that always makes Finn wanna dare, even if he really, _really shouldn’t_.

“Unless you think you can’t handle it”

And Finn should know better than get carried away by that, but—

 _That look_. It is contagious.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I don’t think there’s that much to handle” he replies, and Poe laughs, surprised, delighted, something in his eyes that makes Finn feel the same way as when Poe hugs him, like there’s something about Finn that is worth _keeping._

And well, _that’s just what it is_ , he thinks, _only a kiss_.

Fun. Stupid. Careless. 

So Finn breathes in, breathes out. Leans in and kisses him.

Soft. Warm. A hot-beat of the heart. Breathes _Poe_ in, breathes _Poe_ out.

And it’s over.

The crowd screams, claps, Jessica yells _“That can’t be all you got, Dameron!”_ and Poe is smiling so close to Finn’s mouth that it feels like a taste.

It makes Finn feel daring, it makes Finn feel reckless.

He says:

“Was it all that you got?” and Poe’s smile opens up, becomes bold where it curves around his teeth, their mouths so close Finn _can_ taste it.

“I was just being careful” he says, voice sweet, “but I guess you don’t need that”

And then–

Poe takes his lower lip, between his lips, lets it slide, wet, slippery- _hot._ Poe’s mouth over his mouth, lips grazing at his skin, slow like nothing else’s about him is slow, and so _lightlightlight_ that it feels _wild._

And then–

Poe lets go, draws away. Looks at Finn, and his eyes are wild, too, bright, and _alive_ , and Finn’s heart feels like a ravenous thing, an insatiable thing, long time starved.

“You can breathe now, buddy” Poe whispers.

Finn swallows.

“Takes a little more to make me breathless”

“Does it?” he asks, sounding _so full of himself_ , and Finn has to force that raw feeling in his heart to go _down,_ has to cage it before it can reach his eyes, before it can bare itself out for everyone to see.

For Poe to see.

Poe self-satisfied smirk doesn’t waver while he comes back to his place, while he runs a hand through his hair, glances at Finn with ease, with that-kind-of-something he always looks at Finn with, as if they’ve just performed some kind of crazy stunt, some kind of shared mischief, and that look–

_That look._

“That was-” says Rose when he sits next to her again, her voice breaking to poorly contained laugher. 

Finn’s mouth tastes alcohol-sweet, skin-warmth-sweet. Tastes like Poe’s.

“Just a kiss” he ends, not meeting her eyes, feeling the way she’s trying to find his.

“That’s not what I was gonna say” she replies, but doesn’t add anything more, and Finn doesn’t ask her.


End file.
